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LORD m m 

TENNYSON 




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Of this edition of ELAINE, written by 
ALFRED. LORD TENNYSON, six hundred copies 
-were made on Dickinson handmade paper, and of them 
this is number ^ / 



ELAINE 




ELAINE 

LAINE the fair, Elaine the lovable, 
Elaine, the Iily maid of Astolat, 
High in her chamber up a tower to 

the east 
Guarded the sacred shield of 
Lancelot ; 

Which first she placed where morning's earliest ray 
Might strike it, and awake her with the gleam; 
Then fearing rust or soilure, fashion 'd for it 
A case of silk, and braided thereupon 
All the devices blazon 'd on the shield 
In their own tind, and added, of her wit, 
A border fantasy of branch and flower. 
And yellow-throated nestling in the nest. 
Nor rested thus content, but day by day 
Leaving her household and good father, climb'd 
That eastern tower, and entering barr'd her door, 
Stript off the case, and read the naked shield. 
Now guess'd a hidden meaning in his arms. 
Now made a pretty history to herself 
Of every dint a sword had beaten in it. 
And every scratch a lance had made upon it, 
Conjeduring when and where : this cut is fresh ; 
That ten years back ; this dealt him at Caerlyle ; 
That at Caerleon ; this at Camelot : 
And ah, God's mercy, what a stroke was there I 
And here a thrust that might have kill'd, but God 
Broke the strong lance, and roll'd his enemy down. 
And saved him : so she lived in fantasy. 




OW came the lily maid by that good 
shield 
Of Lancelot, she that knew not ev'n 

his name ? 
He left it with her, when he rode to 
tilt 

For the great diamond in the diamond jousts. 
Which Arthur had ordain'd, and by that name 
Had named them, since a diamond was the prize. 




I OR Arthur when none knew from 

whence he came. 
Long ere the people chose him for 

their king. 
Roving the trackless realms of 

Lyonnessee, 

Had found a glen, gray boulder and black tarn. 
A horror lived about the tarn, and clave 
Like its own mists to all the mountain side : 
For here two brothers, one a king, had met 
And fought together : but their names were lost. 
And each had slain his brother at a blow. 
And down they fell and made the glen abhorr'd : 
And there they lay till all their bones were bleached. 
And lichen'd into color with the crags : 
And he that once was king had on a crown 
Of diamonds, one in front, and four aside. 
And Arthur came, and laboring up the pass 
All in a misty moonshine, unawares 
Had trodden that crown'd skeleton, and the skull 
Brake from the nape, and from the skull the crown 
Roird into light, and turning on its rims 
Fled like a glittering rivulet to the tarn : 

i8 



And down the shingly scaur he plunged, and caught. 

And set it on his head, and in his heart 

Heard murmurs, "Lo, thou likewise shall be king." 




HEREAFTER, when a king, he had 
the gems 

Pluck 'd from the crown, and show'd 
them to his knights. 

Saying "These jewels, whereupon I 
chanced 

Divinely, are the kingdom's, not the king's — 
For public use : henceforward let there be. 
Once every year, a joust for one of these : 
For so by nine years' proof we needs must learn 
Which is our mightiest, and ourselves shall grow 
In use of arms and manhood, till we drive 
The Heathen, who, some say, shall rule the land 
Hereafter, which God hinder." Thus he spoke: 
And eight years past, eight jousts had been, and still 
Had Lancelot won the diamond of the year. 
With purpose to present them to the Queen, 
When all were won : but meaning all at once 
To snare her royal fancy with a boon 
Worth half her realm, had never spoken word. 



N 



I OW for the central diamond and the 

last 
And largest, Arthur, holding then 

his court 
Hard on the fiver nigh the place 

which now 



Is this world's hugest, let proclaim a joust 
At Camelot, and when the time drew nigh 



»9 



spake [fof she had been sick] to Guinevere, 
"Are you so sick, my Queen, you cannot move 
To these fair jousts?" "Yea, lord," she said, 
know it." 



"you 




HEN will you miss, he answer *d, 

"the great deeds 
Of Lancelot, and his prowess in the 

lists, 
A sight you love to look on." And 

the Queen 
Lifted her eyes, and they dwelt languidly 
On Lancelot, where he stood beside the King. 
He, thinking that he read her meaning there, 
" Stay with me, I am sick ; my love is more 
Than many diamonds," yielded ; and a heart. 
Love-loyal to the least wish of the Queen 
[However much he yearn'd to make complete 
The tale of diamonds for his destined boon] 
Urged him to speak against the truth, and say, 
" Sir King, mine ancient wound is hardly whole. 
And lets me from the saddle ; " and the King 
Glanced first at him, then her, and went his way. 
No sooner gone than suddenly she began : 




)0 blame, my lord Sir Lancelot, much 
to blame ! 
Why go you not to these fair jousts ? 

the knights 
Are half of them our enemies, and 
the crowd 

Will murmur, lo the shameless ones, who take 
Their passtime now the trustful King is gone!" 

20 



Then Lancelot, vext at having lied in vain : 
*'Are you so wise ? you were not once so wise. 
My Queen, that summer, when you loved me first. 
Then of the crowd you took no more account 
Then of the myriad cricket of the mead. 
When its own voice clings to each blade of grass. 
And every voice is nothing. As to knights. 
Them surely can I silence with all ease. 
But now my loyal worship is allow 'd 
Of all men : many a bard, without offence. 
Has link'd our names together in his lay, 
Lancelot, the flower of bravery ; Guinevere, 
The pearl of beauty : and our knights at feast 
Have pledged us in this union, while the King 
Would listen smiling. How then ? is there more ? 
Has Arthur spoken aught? or would yourself. 
Now weary of my service and devoir. 
Henceforth be truer to your faultless lord ?" 



(HE broke into a little scornful 
laugh. 
"Arthur, my lord, Arthur, the faultless 

King, 
That passionate perfection, my good 
lord- 
But who can gaze upon the Sun in heaven ? 
He never spake word of reproach to me. 
He never had a glimpse of mine untruth. 
He cares not for me : only here to-day 
There gleam'd a vague suspicion in his eyes : 
Some meddling rogue has tamper'd with him — else 
Rapt in this fancy of his Table Round, 
And swearing men to vows impossible. 



21 



To make them like himself : but, friend, to me 

He is all fault who hath no fault at all : 

For who loves me must have a touch of earth ; 

The low sun makes the color: I am yours. 

Not Arthur's, as you know, save by the bond. 

And therefore hear my words : go to the jousts : 

The tiny-trumpeting gnat can break our dream 

When sweetest : and the vermin voices here 

May buzz so loud — we scorn them, but they sting.' 




my 



HEN answered Lancelot, the chief of 

knights, 
"And with what face, after 

pretext made. 
Shall I appear, O Queen, at Came 

lot, I 

Before a king who honors his owe word. 
As if it were his God's?" 

"Yea," said the Queen. 
"A moral child without the craft to rule. 
Else had he not lost me : but listen to me. 
If I must find you wit : we hear it said 
That men go down before your spear at a touch 
But knowing you are Lancelot : your great name. 
That conquers : hide it therefore : go unknown ; 
Win ! by this kiss you will : and our true king 
Will then allow your pretext, O my knight. 
As all for glory ; for to speak him true. 
You know right well, how meek so e'er he seem. 
No keener hunter after glory breathes. 
He loves it in his knights, more than himself : 
They prove to him his work : win and return." 



32 




HEN got Sir Lancelot suddenly to 

horse. 
Wroth at himself: not willing to be 

known. 
He left the barren-beaten thorough- 
fare. 

Chose the green path that show'd the rarer foot. 
And there among the solitary downs. 
Full often lost in fancy, lost his way ; 
Till as he traced a faintly-shadow'd track. 
That all in loops and links among the dales 
Ran to the Castle of Astolat, he saw 
Fired from the west, far on a hill, the towers. 
Thither he made and wound the gateway horn. 
Then came an old, dumb, myraid-wrinkled man. 
Who let him into lodging and disarm'd. 
And Lancelot marvell'd at the wordless man : 
And issuing found the Lord of Astolat 
With two strong sons. Sir Torre and Sir Lavaine, 
Moving to meet him in the castle court ; 
And close behind them stept the lily maid 
Elaine, his daughter : mother of the house 
There was not : some light jest among them rose 
With laughter dying down as the great knight 
Approach'd them : then the Lord of Astolat, 
"Whence comest thou, my guest, and by what name 
Livest between the lips ? For by thy state 
And presence I might guess thee chief of those. 
After the king, who eat in Arthur's halls. 
Him have I seen : the rest, his Table Round, 
Known as they are, to me they are unknown." 



23 




HEN answer *d Lancelot, the chief of 
knights, 
"Known am I, and of Arthur's hall, 

and known. 
What I by mere mischance have 
brought, my shield. 
But since I go to joust as one unknown 
At Camelot for the diamond, ask me not. 
Hereafter you shall know me — and the shield — 
I pray you lend me one, if such you have. 
Blank, or at least with some device not mine." 




HEN said the Lord of Astolat, " Here 

is Torre's : 
Hurt in his first tilt was my son. Sir 

Torre. 
And, so, God wot, his shield is blank 

enough. 

His you can have." Then added plain Sir Torre, 
"Yea since I cannot use it, you may have it." 
Here laugh'd the father, saying, "Fie, Sir Churl, 
Is that an answer for a noble knight ? 
Allow him : but Lavaine my younger here. 
He is so full of lustihood, he will ride 
Joust for it, and win, and bring it in an hour 
And set it in this damsel's golden hair. 
To make her thrice as wilful as before." 




AY, father, nay, good father, shame 

me not 
Before this noble knight," said young 

Lavaine, 
"For nothing. Surely I but play'd 

on Torre : 

He seem'd so sullen, vext he could not go : 
A jest, no more : for, knight, the maiden dreamt 
That some one put this diamond in her hand. 
And that it was too slippery to be held. 
And slipt and fell into some pool or stream. 
The castle-well, belike : and then I said 
That if I went and if I fought and won it 
[But all was jest and joke among ourselves] 
Then must she keep it safelier. All was jest. 
But father give me leave, an if he will. 
To ride to Camelot with this noble knight : 
Win shall I not, but do my best to win : 
Young as I am, yet would I do my best." 



)0 you will grace me," answer'd Lance- 
lot, 
Smiling a moment, "with your 

fellowship 
O'er these waste downs whereon I 
lost myself. 
Then were I glad of you as guide and friend : 
And you shall win this diamond — as I hear. 
It is a fair large diamond, — if you may. 
And yield it to this maiden, if you will." 
"A fair large diamond," added plain Sir Torre, 
" Such be for Queens and not for simple maids." 
Then she, who held her tyts upon the ground, 

25 




Elaine, and heard her name so tost about, 

Flush'd slightly at the slight disparagement 

Before the stranger knight, who, looking at her. 

Foil courtly, yet not falsely, thus return'd: 

" If what is fair be but for what is fair. 

And only Queens are to be counted so. 

Rash were my judgment then, who deem this maid 

Might wear as fair a jewel as is on earth. 

Not violating the bond of like to like." 

^E spoke and ceased: the lily maid 
Elaine, 
Won by the mellow voice before she 

look'd. 
Lifted her eyes, and read his linea- 
ments. 

The great and guilty love he bare the Queen, 

In battle with the love he bare his lord. 

Had marr'd his face, and mark'd it ere his time. 

Another sinning on such heights with one. 

The flower of all the west and all the world. 

Had been the sleeker for it : but in him 

His mood was often like a fiend, and rose 

And drove him into wastes and solitudes 

For agony, who was yet a living soul. 

Marr'd as he was, he seem'd the goodliest man. 

That ever among ladies ate in Hall, 

And noblest, when she lifted up her eyes. 

However inarr'd, of more than twice her years, 

Seam'd with an ancient swordcut on the cheek. 

And bruised and bronzed, she lifted up her eyes 

And loved him, with that love which was her doom. 



36 




HEN the great knight, the darling of 

the court. 
Loved of the loveliest, into that rude 

hall 
Stept with all grace, and not with half 

disdain 

Hid under grace, as in a smaller time. 
But kindly man moving among his kind : 
Whom they with meats and vintage of their best 
And talk and minstrel melody entertain'd. 
And much they ask'd of court and Table Round, 
And ever well and readily answer 'd he : 
But Lancelot, when they glanced at Guinevere, 
Suddenly speaking of the wordless man. 
Heard from the Baron that, ten years before. 
The heathen caught and reft him of his tongue. 
"He learnt and warn'd me of their fierce design 
Against my house, and him they caught and maim'd : 
But I, my sons, and little daughter fled 
From bonds or death, and dwelt among the woods 
By the great river in a boatman's hut. 
Dull days were those, till our good Arthur broke 
The Pagan yet once more on Badon hill." 




there, great Lord, doubtless," 
Lavaine said, rapt 
By all the sweet and sudden passion 

of youth 
Toward greatness in its elder, "you 
have fought. 
O tell us ; for we live apart, you know 
Of Arthur's glorious wars." And Lancelot spoke 
And answer'd him at full, as having been 



27 



With Arthur in the fight which all day long 

Rang by the white mouth of the violent Glem : 

And in the four wild battles by the shore 

Of Duglas ; that on Bassa ; then the war 

That thunder'd in and out the gloomy skirts 

Of Celidon the forest : and again 

By castle Gurnion where the glorious King 

Had on his cuirass worn our Lady's Head, 

Carved of one emerald, centered in a sun 

Of silver rays, that lighten 'd as he breathed : 

And at Caerleon had he help'd his lord. 

When the strong neighings of the wild white Horse 

Set every gilded parapet shuddering ; 

And up in Agned-Cathregonion too. 

And down the waste sand-shores of Trath Treroit, 

Where many a heathen fell : "and on the mount 

Of Badon I myself beheld the King 

Charge at the head of all his Table Round, 

And all his legions crying Christ and him. 

And break them : and I saw him, after, stand 

High on a heap of slain, from spur to plume 

Red as the rising sun with heathen blood. 

And seeing me, with a great voice he cried, 

•They are broken, they are broken! ' for the King, 

However mild he seems at home, nor cares 

For triumph in our mimic wars, the jousts — 

For if his own knight cast him down, he laughs 

Saying, his knights are better men than he — 

Yet in this heathen war the fire of God 

Fills him ; I never saw his like ; there lives 

No greater leader." 

While he utter'd this. 
Low to her own heart said the lily maid, 

28 



"Save your great self, fair lord"; and when he fell 

From talk of war to traits of pleasantry 

Being mirthful he but in a stately kind — 

She still took note that when the living smile 

Died from his lips, across him came a cloud 

Of melancholy severe, from which again. 

Whenever in her hovering to and fro 

The lily maid had striven to make him cheer. 

There brake a sudden-beaming tenderness 

Of manners and of nature : and she thought 

That all was nature, all, perchance, for her. 

And all night long his face before her lived. 

As when a painter, poring on a face. 

Divinely thro' all hindrance finds the man 

Behind it. and so paints him that his face. 

The shape and color of a mind and life. 

Lives for his children, ever at its best 

And fullest ; so the face before her lived. 

Dark-splendid, speaking in the silence, full 

Of noble things, and held her from her sleep. 

Till rathe she rose, half -cheated in the thought 

She needs must bid farewell to sweet Lavaine. 

First as in fear, step after step, she stole, 

Down the long tower-stairs, hesitating : 

Anon, she heard Sir Lancelot cry in the court, 

"This shield, my friend, where is it?" and Lavaine 

Past inward, as she came from out the tower. 

There to his proud horse Lancelot turn'd and smooth'd 

The glossy shoulder, humming to himself. 

Half-envious of the flattering hand, she drew 

Nearer and stood. He look'd, and more amazed 

Than if seven men had set upon him, saw 

The maiden standing in the dewy light. 

29 



He had not dreamed she was so beautiful. 

Then came on him a sort of sacred fear. 

For silent, tho* he greeted her, she stood 

Rapt on his face as if it were a god's. 

Suddenly flashed on her a wild desire. 

That he should wear her favor at the tilt. 

She braved a riotous heart in asking for it. 

"Fair Lord, whose name I know not — noble it is, 

I well believe, the noblest — will you wear 

My favor at this tourney ?" " Nay," said he, 

"Fair lady, since I never yet have worn 

Favor of any lady in the lists. 

Such is my wont, as those, who know me, know," 

"Yea, so," she answer'd; "then in wearing mine 

Needs must be lesser likelihood, noble lord. 

That those who know should know you." And he turn'd 

Her counsel up and down within his mind. 

And found it true, and answer'd, " True, my child. 

Well, I will wear it : fetch it out to me : 

What is it?" And she told him "A red sleeve 

Broider'd with pearls," and brought it : then he bound 

Her token on his helmet, with a smile 

Saying, " I never yet have done so much 

For any maiden living," and the blood 

Sprang to her face, and fill'd her with delight ; 

But left her all the paler, when Lavaine 

Returning brought the yet unblazon'd shield. 

His brother's ; which he gave to Lancelot. 

Who parted with his own to fair Elaine ; 

" Do me this grace, my child, to have my shield 

In keeping till I come." "A grace to me," 

She answer'd, "twice to-day. I am your squire." 

Whereat Lavaine said, laughing, " Lily maid, 

30 



For fear our people call you lily maid 

In earnest, let me bring your color back ; 

Once, twice, and thrice: now get you hence to ht^": 

So kiss'd her, and Sir Lancelot his own hand. 

And thus they moved away : she stay'd a minute. 

Then made a sudden step to the gate, and there — 

Her bright hair blown about the serious face 

Yet rosy-kindled with her brother's kiss — 

Paused in the gateway, standing by the shield 

In silence, while she watch'd their arms far-off 

Sparkle, until they dipt below the downs. 

Then to her tower she clirab'd, and took the shield. 

There kept it, and so lived in fantasy. 

lEANWHILE the new companions 
past away 
Far o'er the long backs of the bush- 
less downs. 
To where Sir Lancelot knew there 
lived a knight 

Not far from Camelot, now for forty years 

A hermit, who had pray'd, labor'd and pray'd 

And ever laboring had scoop'd himself 

In the white rock a chapel and a hall 

On massive columns, like a shorecliff cave. 

And cells and chambers : all were fair and dry ; 

The green light from the meadows underneath 

Struck up and lived along the milky roofs ; 

And in the meadows tremulous aspen-trees 

And poplars made a noise of falling showers. 

And thither wending there that night they bode. 



31 





UT when the next day broke from 

underground. 
And shot red fire and shadows thro* 

the cave. 
They rose, heard mass, broke fast, 

and rode away ; 
Then Lancelot saying, ** Hear, but hold my name 
Hidden, you ride with Lancelot of the Lake," 
Abashed Lavaine, whose instant reverence. 
Dearer to true young hearts than their own praise. 
But left him leave to stammer, "Is it indeed?" 
And after muttering "the great Lancelot" 
At last he got his breath and answer'd, "One, 
One have I seen — that other, our liege lord. 
The dread Pendragon, Britain's king of kings. 
Of whom the people talk mysteriously. 
He will be there — then were I stricken blind 
That minute, I might say that I had seen." 




|0 spake Lavaine, and when they 
reach *d the lists 
By Camelot in the meadow, let his 

eyes 
Run thro* the peopled gallery which 
half round 
Lay like a rainbow fall'n upon the grass. 
Until they found the dear-faced King, who sat 
Robed in red samite, easily to be known. 
Since to his crown the golden dragon clung. 
And down his robe the dragon writhed in gold. 
And from the carven-work behind him crept 
Two dragons gilded, sloping down to make 
Arms for his chair, while all the rest of them 



3^ 



Thro' knots and loops and folds innumerable 
Fled ever thro' the woodwork, till they found 
The new design wherein they lost themselves. 
Yet with all ease, so tender was the work ; 
And, in the costly canopy o'er him set. 
Blazed the last diamond of the nameless king. 

HEN Lancelot answer'd young Lavaine 

and said, 
"Me you call great: mine is the 

firmer seat. 
The truer lance : but there is many a 

youth 

Now crescent, who will come to all I am 
And overcome it ; and in me there dwells 
No greatness, save it be some far-off touch 
Of greatness to know well I am not great : 
There is the man." And Lavaine gaped upon him 
As on a thing miraculous, and anon 
The trumpets blew : and then did either side. 
They that assailed, and they that held the lists. 
Set lance in rest, strike spur, suddenly move. 
Meet in the midst, and there so furiously 
Shock, that a man far-off might well perceive. 
If any man that day were left afield. 
The hard earth shake, and a low thunder of arms. 
And Lancelot bode a little, till he saw 
Which were the weaker ; then he hurl'd into it 
Against the stronger ; little need to speak 
Of Lancelot in his glory : King, duke, earl. 
Count, baron — whom he smote, he overthrew. 



33 




)UT in the field were Lancelot's kith 
and kin. 

Ranged with the Table Round that 
held the lists. 

Strong men, and wrathful that a 
stranger knight 
Should do and almost overdo the dttds 
Of Lancelot; and one said to the other, "Lo! 
What is he ? I do not mean the force alone. 
The grace and versatility of the man — 
Is it not Lancelot!" "When has Lancelot worn 
Favor of any lady in the lists ? 
Not such his wont, as we, that know him, know." 
"How then? who then ?" a fury seized on them, 
A fiery family passion for the name 
Of Lancelot, and a glory one with theirs. 
They couch 'd their spears and prick'd their steeds and thus. 
Their plumes driv'n backward by the wind they made 
In moving, all together down upon him 
Bare, as a wild wave in the wild North-sea, 
Green-glimmering toward the summit, bears, with all 
Its stormy crests that smoke against the skies, 
Down on a bark, and overbears the bark. 
And him that helms it, so they overbore 
Sir Lancelot and his charger, and a spear 
Down-glancing lamed the charger, and a spear 
Prick'd sharply his own cuirass and the head 
Pierced thro' his side, and there snapt, and remain'd. 



34 




HEN Sir Lavaine did well and wof- 

shipfully ; 
He bore a knight of old repute to 

the earth. 
And brought his horse to Lancelot 

where he lay. 
He up the side, sweating with agony, got. 
But thought to do while he might yet endure 
And being lustily holpen by the rest. 
His party, — tho' it seem'd half-miracle 
To those he fought with — drave his kith and kin. 
And all the Table Round that held the lists. 
Back. to the barrier; then the heralds blew 
Proclaiming his the prize, who wore the sleeve 
Of scarlet, and the pearls ; and all the knights 
His party, cried "Advance, and take thy prize 
The diamond"; but he answer'd, "Diamond me 
No diamonds I for God's love, a little air ! 
Prize me no prizes, for my prize is death ! 
Hence will I and I charge you, follow me not." 




E spoke, and vanish 'd suddenly from 
the field 
With young Lavaine into the poplar 

grove. 
There from his charger down he slid, 
and sat. 

Gasping to Sir Lavaine, "Draw the lancehead"; 
"Ah, my sweet lord. Sir Lancelot," said Lavaine, 
"I dread me, if I draw it, you will die." 
But he, " I die already with it : draw — 
Draw" — and Lavaine drew, and that other gave 
A marvellous great shriek and ghastly groan, 

35 




And half his blood burst forth, and down he sank 
For the pure pain, and wholly swoon'd away. 
Then came the hermit out and bare him in. 
There stanch'd his wound ; and there, in daily doubt 
Whether to live or die. for many a week 
Hid from the wide world's rumor by the grove 
Of poplars with their noise of falling showers. 
And ever-tremulous aspen-trees, he lay. 

UT on that day when Lancelot fled 

the lists. 
His party, knights of utmost North 

and West, 
Lords of waste marches, kings of 

desolate isles. 
Came round their great Pendragon, saying to him, 
"Lo, Sire, our knight thro' whom we won the day 
Hath gone sore wounded, and hath left his prize 
Untaken, crying that his prize is death." 
"Heaven hinder," said the King," "that such an one. 
So great a knight as we have seen to-day — 
He seem'd to me another Lancelot — 
Yea, twenty times I thought him Lancelot — 
He must not pass uncared for, Gawain, rise. 
My nephew, and ride forth and find ths knight. 
Wounded and wearied, needs must he be near. 
I charge you that you get at once to horse. 
And, knights and kings, there breathes not one of you 
Will deem this prize of ours is rashly given : 
His prowess was too wondrous. We will do him 
No customary honor : since the knight 
Came not to us, of us to claim the prize. 
Ourselves will send it after. Wherefore take 

36 




This diamond, and deliver it, and return. 
And bring us what he is and how he fares. 
And cease not from your quest, until you find." 

saying from the carven flowef 

above. 
To which it made a restless heart, he 

took. 
And gave, the diamond : then from 

where he sat 
At Arthur's right, with smiling face arose. 
With smiling face and frowning heart, a Prince 
In the mid might and flourish of his May, 
Gawain, surnamed The Courteous, fair and strong. 
And after Lancelot, Tristram, and Geraint 
And Lamorack, a good knight, but therewithal 
Sir Modred's brother, of a crafty house. 
Nor often loyal to his word, and now 
Wroth that the king's command to sally forth 
In quest of whom he knew not, made him leave 
The banquet, and concourse of knights and kings. 




O all in wrath he got to horse and 
went; 
While Arthur to the banquet, dark in 

mood. 
Past, thinking, "Is it Lancelot who 
has come 

Despite the wound he spake of, all for gain 
Of glory, and has added wound to wound. 
And ridd'n away to die ?" So fear'd the King. 
And, after two days' tarriance there, return'd. 
Then when he saw the Queen, embracing, ask'd. 



37 



"Love, are you yet so sick?'' "Nay, lofd," she said. 
"And where is Lancelot?" Then the Queen amazed, 
"Was he not with you? won he not your prize?" 
"Nay. but one like him." "Why that like was he." 
And when the King demanded how she knew. 
Said, "Lord, no sooner had you parted from us. 
Than Lancelot told me of a common talk 
That men went down before his spear at a touch. 
But knowing he was Lancelot ; his great name 
Conquer'd ; and therefore would he hide his name 
From all men, e'en the king, and to this end 
Had made the pretext of a hindering wound. 
That he might joust unknown of all, and learn 
If his old prowess were in aught decay 'd : 
And added, 'Our true Arthur, when he learns. 
Will well allow my pretext, as for gain 
Of purer glory.' " 

Then replied the King : 
"Far lovelier in our Lancelot had it been. 
In lieu of idly dallying with the truth. 
To have trusted me as he has trusted you. 
Surely his king and most familiar friend 
Might well have kept his secret. True, indeed. 
Albeit I know my knights fantastical. 
So fine a fear in our large Lancelot 
Must needs have moved my laughter: now remains 
But little cause for laughter : his own kin — 
111 news, my Queen, for all who love him, these ! 
His kith and kin, not knowing, set upon him ; 
So that he went sore wounded from the field : 
Yet good news too : for goodly hopes are mine 
That Lancelot is no more a lonely heart. 
He wore, against his wont, upon his helm 

38 



A sleeve of scarlet, bfoidered with great pearls. 
Some gentle maiden's gift." 

"Yea. lord," she said, 
"Your hopes are mine," and saying that she choked. 
And sharply turn'd about to hide her face. 
Moved to her chamber, and there flung herself 
Down on the great King's couch, and writhed upon it. 
And clench'd her fingers till they bit the palm. 
And shriek'd out "traitor" to the unhearing wall. 
Then flash'd into wild tears, and rose again. 
And moved about her palace, proud and pale. 

^AWAIN the while thro' all the region 

round 
Rode with his diamond, wearied of 

the quest, 
Touch'd at all points, except the 

poplar grove. 
And came at last, tho* late, to Astolat : 
Whom glittering in enamell'd arms the maid 
Glanced at, and cried "What news from Camelot, lord? 
What of the knight with the red sleeve?" "He won." 
"I knew it," she said. "But parted from the jousts 
Hurt in the side," whereat she caught her breath. 
Thro' her own side she lelt the sharp lance go ; 
Thereon she smote her hand : wellnigh she swoon'd ; 
And while he gazed wonderingly at her, came 
The lord of Astolat out, to whom the Prince 
Reported who he was, and on what quest 
Sent, that he bore the prize and could not find 
The vidtor, but had ridden wildly round 
To seek him, and was wearied of the search. 
To whom the lord of Astolat, "Bide with us, 

39 




And ride no longer wildly, noble Prince ! 

Here was the knight, and here he left a shield; 

This will he send or come for : furthermore 

Our son is with him ; we shall hear anon. 

Needs must we hear," To this the courteous Prince 

Accorded with his wonted courtesy. 

Courtesy with a touch of traitor in it. 

And stay'd ; and cast his eyes on fair Elaine : 

Where could be found face daintier ? Then her shape 

From forehead down to foot perfect — again 

From foot to forehead exquisitely turn'd : 

"Well — if I bide, lo! this wild flower for me!" 

And oft they met among the garden yews. 

And there he set himself to play upon her 

With sallying wit, free flashes from a height 

Above her, graces of the court, and songs. 

Sighs, and slow smiles, and golden eloquence 

And amorous adulation, till the maid 

Rebell'd against it, saying to him. "Prince, 

O loyal nephew of our noble King, 

Why ask you not to see the shield he left. 

Whence you might learn his name ? Why slight your King, 

And lose the quest he sent you on, and prove 

No surer than our falcon yesterday. 

Who lost the hern we slipt him at, and went 

To all the winds?" "Nay, by mine head," said he, 

"I lose it, as we lose the lark in heaven, 

O damsel, in the light of your blue eyes : 

But an you will it let me see the shield." 

And when the bhield was brought, and Gawain saw 

Sir Lancelot's azure lions, crown'd with gold. 

Ramp in the field, he smote his thigh and mock'd ; 

"Right was the King! our Lancelot! that true manl" 

40 



"And right was I," she answer 'd merrily, "I, 

Who dream'd my knight the greatest knight of all." 

"And if I dream *d/* said Gawain, "that you love 

This greatest knight, your pardon ! lo. you know it f 

Speak therefore : shall I waste myself in vain ?" 

Full simple was her answer: "What know I? 

My brethren have been all my fellowship. 

And I, when often they have talk'd of love, 

Wish'd it had been my mother, for they talk'd, 

Meseem'd. of what they knew not; so myself — 

I know not if I know what true love is. 

But if I know, then, if I love not him, 

Methinks there is none other I can love." 

"Yea. by God's death," said he. "you love him well. 

But would not, knew you what all others know. 

And whom he loves." "So be it," cried Elaine, 

And lifted her fair face and moved away : 

But he pursued her calling, " Stay a little I 

One golden minute's grace : he wore your sleeve : 

Would he break faith with one I may not name ? 

Must our true man change like a leaf at last ? 

May it be so ? Why then, far be it from me 

To cross our mighty Lancelot in his loves ! 

And, damsel, for I deem you know full well 

Where your great knight is hidden, let me leave 

My quest with you ; the diamond also : here ! 

For if you love, it will be sweet to give it ; 

And if he love, it will be sweet to have it 

From your own hand ; and whether he love or not, 

A diamond is a diamond. Fare you well 

A thousand times ! — a thousand times farewell I 

Yet. if he love, and his love hold, we two 

May meet at court hereafter : there, I think, 

41 



So you will learn the courtesies of the court. 
We two shall know each other." 

Then he gave. 
And slightly kiss'd the hand to which he gave. 
The diamond, and all wearied of the quest 
Lept on his horse, and caroling as he went 
A true-love ballad, lightly rode away. 



(HENCE to the court he past; there 
told the King 
What the King knew, " Sir Lancelot 

is the knight." 
And added, " Sire, my liege, so much 
I learnt : 

But fail'd to find him tho' I rode all round 
The region : but I lighted on the maid. 
Whose sleeve he wore ; she loves him : and to her 
Deeming our courtesy is the truest law, 
I gave the diamond : she will render it ; 
For by mine head she knows his hidingplace.'* 



HE seldom-frowning King frown'd, 
and replied, 
"Too courteous truly! you shall go 

no more 
On quest of mine, seeing that you 
forget 
Obedience is the courtesy due to kings." 




4^ 




E spake and parted. Wroth, but all in 

awe. 
For twenty strokes of the Wood. 

without a word, 
Linger'd that other, staring after 

him: 

Then shook his hair, strode off, and buzz'd abroad 
About the maid of Astolat. and her love. 
All ears were prick'd at once, all tongues were loosed : 
"The maid of Astolat loves Sir Lancelot, 
Sir Lancelot loves the maid of Astolat." 
Some read the King's face, some the Queen's, and all 
Had marvel what the maid might be, but most 
Predoom'd her as unworthy. One old dame 
Came suddenly on the Queen with the sharp news. 
She, that had heard the noise of it before. 
But sorrowing Lancelot should have stoop'd so low, 
Marr'd her friend's point with pale tranquility. 
So ran the tale like £re about the court. 
Fire in dry stubble a nine day's wonder stared ; 
Till ev'n the knights at banquet twice or thrice 
Forgot to drink to Lancelot and the Queen, 
And pledging Lancelot and the lily maid 
Smiled at each other, while the Queen who sat 
With lips severely placid felt the knot 
Climb in her throat, and with her feet unseen 
Crush'd the wild passion out against the floor 
Beneath the banquet, where the meats became 
As wormwood, and she hated all who pledged. 



43 




UT far away the maid in Astolat, 
Her guiltless rival, she that ever kept 
The one-day-seen Sir Lancelot in her 

heart. 
Crept to her father, while he mosed 
alone. 

Sat on his knee, stroked his gray face and said, 
"Father, you call me wilful, and the fault 
Is yours who let me have my will, and now. 
Sweet father, will you let me lose my wits ?" 
"Nay," said he, "surely." "Wherefore let me hence," 
She answer'd, "and find out our dear Lavaine." 
"You will not lose your wits for dear Lavaine : 
Bide," answer'd he : "we needs must hear anon 
Of him, and of that other." "Ay," she said, 
"And of that other, for I needs must hence 
And find that other, whereso'er he be. 
And with mine own hand give his diamond to him. 
Lest I be found as faithless in the quest 
As yon proud Prince who left the quest to me. 
Sweet father, I behold him in his dreams 
Gaunt as it were the skeleton of himself. 
Death-pale, for lack of gentle maiden's aid. 
The gentler-born the maiden, the more bound. 
My father, to be sweet and serviceable 
To noble knights in sickness, as you know. 
When these have worn their tokens ; let me hence 
I pray you." Then her father nodding said, 
"Ay, ay, the diamond: wit you well, my child. 
Right fain were I to learn this knight were whole. 
Being our greatest : yea, and you must give it — 
And sure I think this fruit is hung too high 



44 



Fof any mouth to gape fof save a Queen's — 

Nay, I mean nothing : so then, get you gone. 

Being so very wilful you must go." 

Lightly, her suit allow 'd. she slipt away. 

And while she made her ready fof her fide, 

Hef father's latest wofd humm'd in hef eaf, 

"Being so vefy wilful you must go," 

And changed itself and echoed in hef heaft, 

" Being so vefy wilful you must die." 

But she was happy enough and shook it off. 

As we shake off the bee that buzzes at us ; 

And in hef heaft she answef 'd it and said, 

" What mattef, so I help him back to life ?" 

Then faf away with good Sif Toffe fof guide 

Rode o'ef the long backs of the bushless downs 

To Camelot, and befofe the city-gates 

Came on hef bfothef with a happy face 

Making a foan hofse capef and cufvet 

Fof pleasure all about a field of flowefs : 

Whom when she saw, "Lavaine," she cfied, "Lavaine, 

How fares my lord Sir Lancelot ?" He amazed, 

"Toffe and Elaine! why here? Sir Lancelot! 

How know you my lord's name is Lancelot?" 

But when the maid had told him all her tale. 

Then turn'd Sir Torre, and being in his moods 

Left them, and under the strange-statued gate. 

Where Arthur's wars were render 'd mystically. 

Past up the still rich city to his kin. 

His own far blood, which dwelt at Camelot ; 

And her Lavaine across the poplar grove 

Led to the caves ; there first she saw the casque 

Of Lancelot on the wall ; her scarlet sleeve. 



45 



Tho* carved and cut. and half the pearls away. 

Stream'd from it still : and in her heart she laugh'd. 

Because he had not loosed it from his helm. 

But meant once more perchance to tourney in it. 

And when they gain'd the cell in which he slept. 

His battle-writhen arms and mighty hands 

Lay naked on the wolfskin, and a dream 

Of dragging down his enemy made them move. 

Then she that saw him lying unsleek, unshorn. 

Gaunt as it were the skeleton of himself. 

Utter 'd a little tender dolorous cry. 

The sound not wonted in a place so still 

Woke the sick knight, and while he roll'd his eyes 

Yet blank from sleep, she started to him, saying, 

"Your prize the diamond sent you by the King"; 

His eyes glisten'd: she fancied "is it for me?" 

And when the maid had told him all the tale 

Of King and Prince, the diamond sent, the quest 

Assign'd to her not worthy of it. she knelt 

Full lowly by the corners of his htd. 

And laid the diamond in his open hand. 

Her face was near, and as we kiss the child 

That does the task assign'd. he kiss'd her face. 

At once she slipt like water to the floor. 

-'Alas," he said, "your ride has wearied you. 

Rest must you have." "No rest for me," she said ; 

"Nay, for near you, fair lord, I am at rest." 

What might she mean by that ? His large black eyes. 

Yet larger thro' his leanness, dwelt upon her. 

Till all her heart's sad secret blazed itself 

In the heart's colors on her simple face ; 

And Lancelot look'd and was perplext in mind. 



And being weak in body said no more ; 
But did not love the color ; woman's love. 
Save one, he not regarded, and so turn'd 
Sighing, and feign'd asleep until he slept. 



HEN rose Elaine and glided thro' the 
fields. 

And past beneath the wildly-sculp- 
tured gates 

Far up the dim rich city to her 
kin: 

There bode the night : but woke with dawn, and past 
Down thro' the dim rich city to the fields. 
Thence to the cave : so day by day she past 
In either twilight ghost-like to and fro 
Gliding, and every day she tended him. 
And likewise many a night : and Lancelot 
Would, tho' he call'd his wound a little hurt 
Whereof he should be quickly whole, at times 
Brain-feverous in his heat and agony, seem 
Uncourteous, even he : but the meek maid 
Sweetly forbore him ever, being to him 
Meeker than any child to a rough nurse. 
Milder than any mother to a sick child. 
And never woman yet, since man's first fall. 
Did kindlier unto man, but her deep love 
Upbore her ; till the hermit, skill'd in all 
The simples and the science of that time. 
Told him that her fine care had saved his life. 
And the sick man forgot her simple blush. 
Would call her friend and sister, sweet Elaine. 
Would listen for her coming and regret 
Her parting step, and held her tenderly. 



47 




And loved her with all love except the love 
Of man and woman when they love their best 
Closest and sweetest, and had died the death 
In any knightly fashion for her sake. 
And peradventure had he seen her first 
She might have made this and that other world 
Another world for the sick man : but now 
The shackles of an old love straiten'd him. 
His honor rooted in dishonor stood. 
And faith unfaithful kept him falsely true. 

^ET the great knight in his mid-sickness 
made 

Full many a holy vow and pure 
resolve. 

These, as but born of sickness, could 
not live : 

For when the blood ran lustier in him again. 
Full often the sweet image of one face. 
Making a treacherous quiet in his heart. 
Dispersed his resolution like a cloud. 
Then if the maiden, while that ghostly grace 
Beam'd on his fancy, spoke, he answer'd not. 
Or short and coldly, and she knew right well 
What the rough sickness meant, but what this meant 
She knew not. and the sorrow dimm'd her sight. 
And drave her ere her time across the fields 
Far into the rich city, where alone 
She murmur'd, "Vain, in vain : it cannot be. 
He will not love me: how then? Must I die?" 
Then as a little helpless innocent bird. 
That has but one plain passage of few notes. 
Will sing the simple passage o'er and o'er 

48 



For all an April morning, till the ear 

Wearies to hear it, so the simple maid 

Went half the night repeating, "Must I die?" 

And now to right she turn'd. and now to left 

And found no ease in turning or in rest : 

And "him or death" she mutter'd, "death or him/ 

Again and like a burthen, "him or death." 




|UT when Sir Lancelot's deadly hurt 

was whole. 
To Astolat returning rode the 

three. 
There morn by morn, arraying her 

sweet self 

In that wherein she deem'd she look'd hef best. 
She came before Sir Lancelot, for she thought 
"If I be loved, these are my festal robes. 
If not, the victim's flowers before he faU." 
And Lancelot ever prest upon the maid 
That she should ask some goodly gift of him 
For her own self or hers; "and do not shun 
To speak the wish most near to your true heart ; 
Such service have you done me, that I make 
My will of yours, and Prince and Lord am I 
In mine own land, and what I will I can." 
Then like a ghost she lifted up her face. 
But like a ghost without the power to speak. 
And Lancelot saw that she withheld her wish. 
And bode among them yet a little space. 
Till he should learn it; and one morn it chanced 
He found her in among the garden yews. 
And said, "Delay no longer, speak your wish. 
Seeing I must go to-day": then out she brake;. 



49 



"Going? And we shall never see you mote. 

And I must die for want of one bold word." 

"Speak: that I live to hear," he said, "is youfs," 

Then suddenly and passionately she spoke : 

"I have gone mad. I love you: let me die." 

"Ah sister." answer'd Lancelot, "what is this?" 

And innocently extending her white arms, 

"Your love," she said, "your love — ^to be your wife.' 

And Lancelot answer'd, "Had I chos'n to wed, 

I had been wedded earlier, sweet Elaine ; 

But now there never will be wife of mine." 

"No, no," she cried, *•! care not to be wife. 

But to be with you still, to see your face. 

To serve you, and to follow you thro* the world." 

And Lancelot answer'd, "Nay, the world, the world. 

All ear and eye, with such a stupid heart 

To interpret ear and eye, and such a tongue 

To blare its own interpretation — nay. 

Full ill then should I quit your brother's love. 

And your good father's kindness." And she said, 

"Not to be with you, not to see your face, 

Alas for me then, my good days are done." 

"Nay, noble maid," he answer'd, "ten times nay! 

This is not love ; but love's first flash in youth. 

Most common : yea, I know it of mine own self; 

And you yourself will smile at your own self 

Hereafter, when you yield your flower of life 

To one more fitly yours, not thrice your age : 

And then will L for true you are and sweet 

Beyond mine old belief in womanhood. 

More specially should your good knight be poof. 

Endow you with broad land and territory 

Even to the half my realm beyond the seas, 

50 




So that would make you happy : f ufthef mof e, 
Ev 'n to the death, as tho' you were my blood. 
In all your quarrels will I be your knight. 
This will I do, dear damsel, for your sake. 
And more than this I cannot." 

While he spoke 
She neither blush'd nor shook, but deathly-pale 
Stood grasping what was nearest, then replied, 
"Of all this will I nothing"; and so fell. 
And thus they bore her swooning to her tower. 

HEN spake, to whom thro' those black 
walls of yew 
Their talk had pierced, her father, 

"Ay, a flash, 
I fear me, that will strike my blossom 
dead. 

Too courteous are you, fair Lord Lancelot. 
I pray you, use some rough discourtesey 
To blunt or break her passion." 

Lancelot said, 
"That were against me; what I can I will"; 
And there that day remain'd, and toward even 
Sent for his shield : full meekly rose the maid, 
Stript off the case, and gave the naked shield ; 
Then, when she heard his horse upon the stones. 
Unclasping flung the casement back, and look'd 
Down on his helm, from which her sleeve had gone. 
And Lancelot knew the little clinkling sound : 
And she by tadl of love was well aware 
That Lancelot knew that she was looking at him. 



y 



And yet he glanced not up, nor waved his hand. 
Nor bade farewell, K«t sadly rode away. 
This was the one discourtesy that he used. 




O in her tower alone the maiden sat ; 
His very shield was gone : only the 

case. 
Her own poor work, her empty labor, 

left. 
But still she heard him, still his picture 
form 'd 
And grew between her and the pidture wall. 
Then came her father, saying in low tones 
"Have comfort," whom she greeted quietly. 
Then came her brethern saying, "Peace to thee 
Sweet sister," whom she answered with all calm. 
But when they left her to herself again. 
Death, like a friend's voice from a distant field 
Approaching thro' the darkness, called ; the owls 
Wailing had power upon her, and she mixt 
Her fancies with the sallow-rifted glooms 
Of evening, and the moanings of the wind. 



|NP in those days she made a little 
song. 
And call'd her song "The Song of 

Love and Death." 
And sang it : sweetly could she make 
and sing. 



" Sweet is true love, tho* given in vain, in vain : 
And sweet is death who puts an end to pain : 
I know not which is sweeter, no not I. 



5^ 



"Love, art thou sweet? then bitter death must be : 
Love, thou are bitter ; sweet is death to me. 

Love, if death be sweeter, let me die. 

"Sweet Love, that seems not made to fade away. 
Sweet death, that seems to make us loveless clay, 

1 know not which is sweeter, no, not L 



" I fain would follow love, if that could be : 
I needs must follow death, who calls for me ; 
Call and I follow, I follow ! let me die." 



/ 




/ 

IGH with the last line scaled her voice, ^.. 
and this. 
All in a fiery dawning wild with 

wind 
That shook her tower, the brothers 
heard, and thought 
With shuddering, "Hark the Phantom of the house 
That ever shrieks before a death," and call'd 
The father, and all three in hurry and fear 
Ran to her, and lo I the blood-red light of dawn 
Flared on her face, she shrilling "Let me die !" 

S when we dwell upon a word we know 

Repeating, till the word we know so well 

Becomes a wonder and we know not 

why. 

So dwelt the father on her face and 

thought 

"Is this Elaine!" till back the maiden fell. 
Then gave a languid hand to each, and lay. 
Speaking a still good-morrow with her eyes 

53 




At last she said, " Sweet brothers, yester-night 
I seem 'd a curious little maid again. 
As happy as when we dwelt among the woods. 
And when you used to take me with the flood 
Up the great river in the boatman's boat. 
Only you would not pass beyond the cape 
That has the poplar on it : there you fixt 
Your limit, oft returning with the tide. 
And yet I cried because you would not pass 
Beyond it, and far up the shining flood 
Until we found the palace of the king. 
And yet you would not ; but this night I dream *d 
That I was all alone upon the flood. 
And then I said, 'Now shall I have my will'; 
And there I woke, but still the wish remain 'd. 
So let me hence that I may pass at last 
Beyond the poplar and far up the flood. 
Until I find the palace of the king. 
There will I enter in among them all. 
And no man there will dare to mock at me ; 
But there the fine Gawain will wonder at me ; 
And there the great Sir Lancelot muse at me ; 
Cawain, who bade a thousand farewells to me, 
Lancelot, who coldly went nor bade me one : 
And there the King will know me and my love. 
And there the Queen herself will pity me. 
And all the gentle court will welcome me. 
And after my long voyage I shall rest I " 



54 



each;* said hef father, "O my 
child, you seem 
Light-headed, for what force is yours 

to go. 
So far, being sick? and wherefore 
would you look 
On this proud fellow again, who scorns us all?" 




I HEN the rough Torre began to heave 
and move. 
And bluster into stormy sobs and say, 
" I never loved him : an I meet with 

him, 
I care not howsoever great he be, 
f hen will I strike at him and strike him down. 
Give me good fortune, I will strike him dead. 
For this discomfort he hath done the house," 

To which the gentle sister made reply, 

"Fret not yourself, dear brother, nor be wroth. 

Seeing it is no more Sir Lancelot fault 

Not to love me, than it is mine to love 

Him of all men who seems to me the highest." 

"Highest?" the Father answer *d echoing "highest." 
[He meant to break the passion in her.] "Nay, 
Daughter, I know not what you call the highest ; 
But this I know, for all the people know it. 
He loves the Queen, and in an open shame : 
And she returns his love in open shame. 
If this be high, what is to be low ? " 



55 




HEN spake the lily maid of Astolat : 
** Sweet father, all too faint and sick 

am I 
For anger : these are slanders : never 

yet 
Was noble man but made ignoble talk. 

He makes no friend who never made a foe. 

But now it is my glory to have loved 

One peerless, without stain : so let me pass. 

My father, howsoe'er I seem to you. 

Not all unhappy, having loved God's best 

And greatest, tho' my love had no return : 

Yet, seeing you desire your child to live. 

Thanks, but you work against your own desire ; 

For if I could believe the things you say 

I should but die the sooner ; wherefore cease. 

Sweet father, and bid call the ghostly man 

Hither, and let me shrive me clean, and die." 

)0 when the ghostly man had come and 
gone. 
She with a face, bright as for sin for- 
given. 
Besought La vine to write as she de- 
vised 

A letter, word for word; and when he ask'd 
"Is it for Lancelot, is it for my dear lord?. 
Then will I bear it gladly" : she replied, 
"For Lancelot and the Queen and all the world. 
But I myself must bear it." Then he wrot« ^ 
The letter she devised ; which being writ ■ 
And folded, " O sweet father, tender and true, , 
Deny me not," she said — "you never yet . 

56, 




Denied my fancies — this, however strange. 

My latest : lay the letter in my hand 

A little ere I die, and close the hand 

Upon it ; I shall guard it even in death. 

And when the heat is gone from out my heart. 

Then take the little bed on which I died 

For Lancelot's love, and deck it like the Queen's 

For richness, and me also like the Queen 

In all I have of rich, and lay me on it. 

And let there be prepared a chariot-bief 

To take me to the river, and a barge 

Be ready on the river, clothed in black. 

I go in state to court, to meet the Queen, 

There surely I shall speak for mine own self. 

And none of you can speak for me so well. 

And therefore let our dumb old man alone 

Go with me, he can steer and row, and he 

Will guide me to that palace, to the doors." 




H£ ceased: her father promised: 
whereupon 
She grew so cheerful that they deem *d 

her death 
Was rather in a fantasy than the 
blood. 

But ten slow mornings past, and on the eleventh 
Her father laid the letter in her hand. 
And closed the hand upon it, and she died. 
So that day there was dole in Astolat. 



57 



B 



lUT "when the next sun brake from 
underground. 
Then, those two brethren slowly with 

bent brows 
Accompanying, the sad chariot-bief 
Past like a shadow thro' the field, 
that shone 

Full summer, to that stream whereon the barge. 

Pall 'd all its length in blackest samite, lay. 

There sat the lifelong creature of the house. 

Loyal, the dumb old servitor, on deck. 

Winking his eyes, and twisted all his face. 

So those two brethren from the chariot took 

And on the black decks laid her in her bed. 

Set in her hand a lily, o'er her hung 

The silken case with braided blazonings. 

And kiss'd her quiet brows, and saying to her, 

"Sister, farewell forever," and again, 

"Farewell, sweet sister," parted all in tears. 

Then rose the dumb old servitor, and the dead 

St'ier'd by the dumb went upward with the flood- 
In her right hand the lily, in her left 

The letter — all her bright hair streaming down — 

And all the coverlid was cloth of gold 

Drawn to her waist, and she herself in white 

All but her face, and that dear-featured face 

Was lovely, for she did not seem as dead 

But fast asleep, and lay as tho' she smiled. 



58 




HAT day Sir Lancelot at the palace 
craved 
Audience of Guinevere, to give at last 
The price of half a realm, his costly 

gift. 
Hard- won and hardly won with bfose 
and blow. 
With deaths of others, and almost his own. 
The nine-years-fought-for diamonds : for he saw 
One of her house, and sent him to the Queen 
Bearing his wish, whereto the Queen agreed 
With such and so unmoved a majesty 
She might have seem *d her statue, but that he. 
Low-drooping till he wellnigh kiss'd her feet 
For loyal awe, saw with a sidelong eye 
The shadow of a piece of pointed lace. 
In the Queen's shadow, vibrate on the walls. 
And parted, laughing in his courtly heart. 

LL in an oriel on the summer side. 
Fine-clad of Arthur's palace toward 

the stream. 
They met, and Lancelot kneeling 

utter 'd "Queen, 
Lady, my liege, in whom I have my joy. 
Take, what I had not won except for you. 
These jewels, and make me happy, making them 
An armlet for the roundest arm on earth. 
Or necklace for a neck to which the swan's 
Is tawnier than her cygnet's : these are words : 
Youf beauty is your beauty, and I sin 
In speaking, yet O grant my worship of it 
Words, as we grant grief tears. Such sin in words 

59 




Perchance, we both can pardon : but, my Queen, 
I hear of rumors flying thro' your court. 
Our bond, as not the bond of man and wife. 
Should have in it an absoluter trust 
To make up that defed : let rumors be ; 
When did not rumors fly ? these, as I trust 
That you trust me in your own nobleness, 
I may not well believe that you believe. " 



HILE thus he spoke, half turned away, 
the Queen 
Brake from the vast oriel-embowering 

vine 
Leaf after leaf, and tore, and cast 
them off. 

Till all the place whereon she stood was green; 
Then, when he ceased, in one cold passive hand 
Received at once and laid aside the gems 
There on a table near her, and replied: 





T may be, I am quicker of belief 
Than you believe me, Lancelot of 

the Lake. 
Our bond is not the the bond of 

man and wife. 
This good is in it, whatsoe'er of ill. 
It can be broken easier. I for you 
This many a year have done despite and wrong 
To one whom ever in my heart of hearts 
I did acknowledge nobler. What are these? 
Diamonds for me ! they had been thrice their worth 
Being your gift, had you not lost your own. 
To loyal hearts the value of all gifts 

60 



Must vary as the giver's. Not for me ! 
Fof her ! for your new fancy. Only this 
Grant me, I pray you: have your joys apart. 
I doubt not that however changed, you keep 
So much of what is graceful: and myself 
Would shun to break those bounds of courtesy 
In which as Arthur's queen I move and rule 
So cannot speak my mind. An end to this I 
A strange one ! yet I take it with Amen. 
So pray you. add my diamonds to her pearls; 
Deck her with these; tell her, she shines me down: 
An armlet for an arm to which the Queen's 
Is haggard, or a necklace for a neck 
O as much fairer — as a faith once fair 
Was richer than these diamonds — hers not mine — 
Nay, by the mother of our Lord himself. 
Or hers or mine, mine now to work my will — 
She shall not have them." 

Saying which she seized. 
And, thro' the casement standing wide for heat. 
Flung them, and down they flash'd, and smote the stream. 
Then from the smitten surface flash'd as it were. 
Diamonds to meet them, and they past away. 
Then while Sir Lancelot leant, in half disgust 
At love, life, all things, on the window ledge. 
Close underneath his eyes, and right across 
Where these had fallen, slowly past the barge 
Whereon the lily maid of Astolat 
Lay smiling, like a star in blackest night. 



6i 




UT the wild Queen, wto saw not, 

burst away 
To weep and wail in secret; and the 

barge 
On to the palace-doorway sliding, 

paused. 

There two stood arm'd, and kept the door;* to whom. 
All up the marble stair, tier over tier. 
Were added mouths that gaped, and eyes that ask'd 
"What is it?" but that oarman's haggard face. 
As hard and still as is the face that men 
Shape to their fancy's eye from broken rocks 
On some clif-side, appall'd them, and they said, 
"He is enchanted, cannot speak — and she. 
Look how she sleeps — the Fairy Queen, so fair ! 
Yea, but how pale I what are they ? flesh and blood ? 
Or come to take the King to fairy land ? 
For some do hold our Arthur cannot die. 
But that he passes into fairy land." 




)HILE thus they babbled of the King, 
the King 
Came girt with knights; then turn'd 

the tongueless man 
From the half -face to the full eye, 
and rose 

And pointed to the damsel, and the doors. 
So Arthur bade the meek Sir Percivale 
And pure Sir Galahad to uplift the maid; 
And reverently they bore her into hall. 
Then came the fine Gawain and wonder'd at her. 
And Lancelot later came and mused at her. 
At last the Queen herself and pitied her: 
62 




But Arthur spied the letter in her hand, 

Stoopt, took, brake seal, and read it; this was all: 

iOST noble lord. Sir Lancelot of the 

Lake, 
I, sometime call'd the maid of 

Astolat, 
Come, for you left me taking no 

farewell. 

Hither, to take my last farewell of you. 
I loved you, and my love had no return. 
And therefore my true love has been my death. 
And therefore to our lady Guinevere, 
And to all other ladies, I make moan. 
Pray for my soul, and yield me burial. 
Pray for my soul thou too. Sir Lancelot, 
As thou art a knight peerless." 

Thus he read. 
And ever in the readings lords and dames 
Wept, looking often from his face who read 
To hers which lay so silent, and at times. 
So touched were they, half -thinking that her lips. 
Who had devised the letter, moved again. 




HEN freely spoke Sir Lancelot to 
them all: 
"My lord liege Arthur, and all ye 

that hear. 
Know that for this most gentle 
maiden's death 
Right heavy am I: for good she was and true. 
But loved me with a love beyond all love 
In women, whomsoever I have known. 



63 



Yet to be loved makes not to love again: 
Not at my years, however it hold in youth. 
I swear by truth and knighthood that I gave 
No cause, not willingly, for such a love; 
To this I call my friends in testimony. 
Her brethren, and her father, who himself 
Besought me to be plain and blunt, and use. 
To break her passion, some discourtesy 
Against my nature; what I could, I did. 
I left her and I bade her no farewell. 
Tho' had I dreamt the damsel would have died. 
I might have put my wits to some rough use. 
And help'd her from herself." 

Then said the Queen — 
Sea was her wrath, yet working after storm — 
"You might at least have done her so much grace. 
Fair lord, as would have help'd her from her death." 
He raised his head, their eyes met and her's fell. 
He adding, 

"Queen, she would not be content 
Save that I wedded her, which could not be. 
Then might she follow me thro' the worM, she ask'd: 
It could not be. I told her that her love 
Was but the flash of youth, would darken down 
To rise hereafter in a stiller flame 
Toward one more worthy of her — then would I, 
More specially were he, she wedded, poor. 
Estate them with large land and territory 
In mine own realm beyond the narrow seas. 
To keep them in all joyance; more than this 
I could not; this she would not» and she died." 



64 



H 



|E pausing, Arthur answer'd, "O my 

knight. 
It will be to your worship, as my 

knight. 
And mine, as head of all our Table 

Round, 



To see that she be buried worshipfully. 




O toward that shrine which then in all 

the realm 
Was richest, Arthur leading, slowly 

went 
The marshall'd order of their Table 

Round, 

And Lancelot sad beyond his wont, to see 
The maiden buried, not as one unknown. 
Nor meanly, but with gorgeous obsequies. 
And mass, and rolling music, like a Queen. 
And when the knights had laid her comely head 
Low in the dust of half-forgotten kings. 
Then Arthur spake among them; "Let her tomb 
Be costly, and her image thereupon. 
And let the shield of Lancelot at her feet 
Be carven, and her lily in her hand. 
And let the story of her dolorous voyage 
For all true hearts be blazon'd on her tomb 
In letters gold and azure!" which was wrought 
Thereafter; but when now the lords and dames 
And people, from the high door streaming, brake 
Disorderly, as homeward each, the Queen, 
Who mark'd Sir Lancelot where he moved apart. 
Drew near, and sigh'd in passing "Lancelot, 
Forgive me; mine was jealousy in love." 



He answef'd with his eyes upon the ground, 
"That is love's curse; pass on, my Queen, forgiven." 
But Arthur who beheld his cloudy brows 
Approach'd him, and with full affection flung 
One arm about his neck, and spake and said: 

lANCELOT, my Lancelot, thou in 

whom I have 
Most joy and most affiance, for I 

know 
What thou hast been in battle by my 

side. 

And many a time have watch'd thee at the tilt 
Strike down the lusty and long-pradised knight. 
And let the younger and unskill'd go by 
To win his honor and to make his name. 
And loved thy courtesies and thee, a man 
Made to be loved; — but now I would to God, 
For the wild people say wild things of thee. 
Thou couldst have loved this maiden, shaped, it seems. 
By God for thee alone, and from her face. 
If one may judge the living by the dead. 
Delicately pure and marvellously fair. 
Who might have brought thee, now a lonely man 
Wifeless and heirless, noble issue, sons 
Born to the glory of thy name and fame. 
My knight, the great Sir Lancelot of the Lake/* 

LefC. 



66 




HEN answef'd Lancelot, "Fair she 
was, my King, 
Pure, as you ever wish youf knights 

to be. 
To doubt her fairness were to want 
an eye. 

To doubt hef pureness were to want a heart, — 
Yea, to be loved, if what is worthy love 
Could bind him, but free love will not be bound." 




REE love, so bound, were freest," said 
the King. 
"Let love be free; free love is for the 

best: 
And, after heaven, on our dull side of 
death. 

What should be best, if not so pure a love 
Clothed in so pure a loveliness? yet thee 
She fail'd to bind, tho' being, as I think. 
Unbound as yet, and gentle, as I know." 

ND Lancelot answer'd nothing, but he 

went. 
And at the inrunning of a little 

brook 
Sat by the river in a cove and 
watch'd 

The high reed wave, and lifted up his eyes 
And saw the barge that brought her moving down. 
Far-off, a blot upon the stream, and said 
Low in himself, "Ah, simple heart and sweet. 
You loved me, damsel, surely with a love 
Far tenderer than my Queen's. Pray for thy soul? 

67 




Ay, ttat will I. Farewell too— now at last — 
Farewell, fair lily. 'Jealously in love'? 
Not rather dead love's harsh heir, jealous pride? 
Queen if I grant the jealousy as of love. 
May not your crescent fear for name and fame 
Speak, as it waxes, of a love that wanes? 
Why did the King dwell on my name to me? 
Mine own name shames me, seeming a reproach, 
Lancelot, whom the Lady of the lake 
Stole from his mother — as the story runs — 
She chanted snatches of mysterious song 
Heard on the winding waters, eve and morn 
She kiss'd me saying thou art fair, my child. 
As a king's son, and often in her arms 
She bare me, pacing on the dusky mere. 
Would she had drown'd me in it, where'er it be I 
For what am I? what profits me my name 
Of greatest knight? I fought for it, and have it: 
Pleasure to have it, none; to lose it, pain: 
Now grown a part of me: but what use in it? 
To make men worse by making my sin known? 
Or sin seem less, the sinner seeming great? 
Alas for Arthur's greatest knight, a man 
Not after Arthur's heart I I needs must break 
These bonds that so defame me: not without 
She wills it: would L if she will'd it? nay. 
Who knows? but if I would not, then may God, 
I pray him, send a sudden Angel down 
To seize me by the hair and bear me far. 
And fling me deep in that forgotten mere. 
Among the tumbled fragments of the hills." 
So groan'd Sir Lancelot in remorseful pain. 
Not knowing he should die a holy man. 

68 



And here, then comes to an end tie story of 
Elaine the Lily Maid of Astolat set forth in 
verse by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, made into 
this book by Helen Bruneau Van Vechten 
at The Philosopher Press, which is in 
Wausau, Wisconsin, at the Sign of the 
CreenPineTree, with cover, title page and initial 
embellishments, designed by Agnes Bassett, 
and finished this Third Day of August, Nineteen 
Hundred. Sold at The Philosopher Press by 
VanVechten fir Ellis. 



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